


Apology

by calamityera



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamityera/pseuds/calamityera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan offers Dorian an apology where actions speak louder than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apology

Closing the heavy wooden door to his quarters, Inquisitor Trevelyan carefully removed his bow and quiver, propping them both up next to the door. With precise, measured steps the Inquisitor made his way up the stairs and straight to the couch. He bit off a grunt as he lowered himself to a seated position, a dull ache suffusing his entire body behind the veil of several healing draughts. To his vision the edges of the room, even though night had fallen and firelight was the only source of light, were oddly bright. Tendrils of pain curled around his temples, threatening a splitting headache later when the potions had worn off.

_Remind me not to get caught in front of a Behemoth_ , he had jokingly remarked to Iron Bull when they returned to Skyhold, the Qunari supporting him as he limped to the main hall. He gave a half-hearted chuckle at the memory then winced, feeling at his ribs gingerly. Merciful Andraste, this is not going to be any better come morning. Running his hands through his hair, Trevelyan reclined across the couch, crossing his arms over his eyes.

Whether minutes or hours passed, the Inquisitor couldn't tell. Sleep eluded him despite the fuzzy feeling of his consciousness. Adrenaline made him abandon the thought altogether when he heard the door to his quarters swing open below, connecting nosily with the adjacent brick. The Inquisitor shot up, his body screaming in protest at the sudden movement.

"Are all southerners this daft, or is it your particular province!?" a familiar voice snapped from the level below, volume making the pain at Trevelyan's temples spike. Dorian stood at the top of the stairway that led to the Inquisitor's chambers, hair ever so slightly disheveled but otherwise immaculate as always. Trevelyan extended his hands in an open gesture, the bewilderment on his features as plain as the anger that was in Dorian's crinkled nose and brow.

"It's a pleasure to see you too," Trevelyan remarked with a wan smile. This was evidently not the correct response as Dorian's features darkened even more, the pupils of his sea green eyes widening.

"I'm well aware that as the Herald you have to go off gallivanting and showing off how big and important your...  _Inquisition_... is," Dorian hissed, pacing back and forth in front of Trevelyan, "And I'm quite content to watch our Fade-obsessed companion paint his walls to the lovely symphony of a thousand messenger crows, really, it's the height of entertainment in this castle, but," the mage paused, changing direction and striding towards the Inquisitor, "I am not an interesting trinket to be kept on display except when you feel like using me!"

Dorian was only arm's length away from Trevelyan, who was now drenched in sudden clarity under the onslaught of his partner's tirade. The mage continued, his voice hitched up an octave in mockery, "'Oh look, the Tevinter-turned-toy is here again, waiting for his next bedchamber assignation while the rest of us go off and try not to get slaughtered!'  _Kaffas_!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and turning his back to Trevelyan.

"That can't be what you really believe... is it?" the Inquisitor ventured, trying to dampen the ember of anger that flickered in his chest. He sat straighter, leaning forward, gaze intent on Dorian's back - a view he usually enjoyed much more than he was enjoying now.

"And if it is?"

"That's completely ridiculous!" Trevelyan exclaimed, the ember flickering to life, surging to his feet. "Of all the people in the inner circle, you're the one who is most aware of how valuable you are - you never fail to remind me or anyone of that fact!"

Dorian swiveled around, closing the gap between them so that their faces were inches apart. His voice was low and even when he spoke next, "And you never fail to forget it. How many times are you going to leave me behind while you get battered by giants, or dragons, or power-hungry Orlesians in ridiculous hats? As much as it may frighten me at times to be with you, it always  _fucking_  terrifies me when I'm not."

Trevelyan stood in stunned silence for a span of heartbeats. Slowly, carefully, he reached down for one of Dorian's hands, lacing his fingers with the other man's. He felt a fraction of tension ease from the mage's body. "Dorian, I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

"Of course you didn't realize. That would require a degree of introspection to begin with," the mage quipped, tightening his grip on Trevelyan's hand despite the jab, "I overheard Varric's colourful descriptions of your injuries when you arrived at Skyhold, and you don't look much better now if I'm honest. You know healing magic isn't among my innumerable talents. I can't put you back together once something breaks you, I can only stop it from happening in the first place," Dorian mused, running his thumb idly along the Inquisitor's.

Trevelyan placed his other hand on the side of Dorian's face, gently bringing him close enough so that he could feel the mage's breath against his lips. "I owe you an apology," the Inquisitor whispered, and brought his lips to Dorian's, tasting a hint of brandy there. Trevelyan kept the kiss chaste until Dorian deepened it, his tongue lightly tracing the Inquisitor's lips. A short groan escaped Trevelyan as Dorian took the Inquisitor's lower lip in his mouth, sucking gently, grazing his teeth delicately across the flesh there as he parted from him.

"You do owe me an apology, but I'm not sure you're in the condition to offer me one," Dorian murmured, his voice gruff, feeling the same delightful heat begin to pool in his groin that Trevelyan was. Dorian's hands found the small of the Inquisitor's back, gripping the fabric there as he pressed his hips firmly against the Inquisitor's.

"Better now than in the morning," Trevelyan countered, voice low.  Desire coursed through him in steady waves, the pain of his injuries fading like a distant object on the horizon.  His hands found Dorian's rather muscular backside through his leathers and grasped it firmly,  He massaged the flesh there in small circles and was rewarded for his efforts, both with a sharp inhalation from the mage and the feel of Dorian's growing hardness against his thigh. "I'll do all the work. Starting with this, if you want it," the Inquisitor tempted, idly fingering one of the many buckles and fastenings of Dorian's elaborate outfit.

"'If you want it,' he says while I'm in his arms and hard as diamond," the mage purred, brushing the Inquisitor's auburn hair aside to leave hot, wet, lingering kisses down the side of his neck. Trevelyan sighed longingly, working the buckles faster now, feeling lightheaded with desire now along with the day's exertions. He managed to get Dorian's shirt off and gave an appreciative hum at the mage's wonderful physique.

Dorian noticed Trevelyan's gaze and laughed quietly, peeling himself from the Inquisitor's body to aid him in removing the impeding clothing. Shimmying out of his leather pants to reveal a rather prominent erection, he reached impatiently for Trevelyan. The Inquisitor raised his arms and Dorian tugged the dreaded beige shirt over his lover's head, making short work of the trousers afterward.

"Bed. Lay on your back," Trevelyan ordered, voice tight with need. Dorian smirked, pupils blown wide with lust, and slowly turned, giving Trevelyan an unimpeded view of his favourite feature of Dorian's. His hips swayed as he slowly made his way to the bed. When he reached it and settled in, arms behind his head as he stretched across the length of the bed, Trevelyan took a moment to appreciate the sight. The man really was perfection, and he knew how to display it to his every advantage.

The Inquisitor followed suit and joined Dorian on the bed, sitting up and straddling the mage's legs, their cocks barely brushing. Dorian squirmed a bit under him, then responded with a soft moan when Trevelyan gently laid his body against the length of Dorian's, settling so that their eyes met.

"Never say you are unworthy. Maker's breath, you are anything but," Trevelyan whispered, pressing his mouth against Dorian's, finding the other man's tongue with his and working slow circles around it. Trevelyan rhythmically ground his hips against the mage's, their members sliding past each other, the heat building between them. Dorian wrapped his arms around the Inquisitor's shoulders, breath coming quicker now, meeting each thrust of his lover's hips with his own.

Dorian made an undecipherable noise of protest as Trevelyan slid down the mage's body, his hands running up and down Dorian's sides as he made short, teasing bites along the mage's collarbone. The Inquisitor continued down, changing his bites to kisses as he reached Dorian's taut, defined stomach. Trevelyan's hands went from Dorian's sides down to his outer thighs, tantalizingly close to the mage's aching member.

The mage arched his back, moaning and bucking his hips as Trevelyan began to trace his hipbones with his tongue. The Inquisitor paused to shift to the side, parting Dorian's legs gently and settling between them, caressing the sensitive skin where the mage's thighs met his hips. He lowered his face to Dorian's hips and replaced his fingers with his mouth, licking and sucking on the tender skin between thigh and hip.

"This is torturous," Dorian whined, eyes screwed shut, sweat beginning to bead lightly across his diluted molasses skin. Trevelyan's own desire was nearing the point of pain, but even greater was his need to please Dorian.

"My impatient, lovely pariah," the Inquisitor marveled, drinking in the sight of Dorian splayed before him in abandonment to pleasure before brushing his lips along the length of Dorian's swollen member. At the first touch of Trevelyan's mouth, Dorian groaned, then gasped as Trevelyan began to give long, slow licks up and down the mage's shaft. Dorian's hand found Trevelyan's hair and buried itself there, the other grabbing a fistful of sheets.

At the encouragement, the Inquisitor took the tip of Dorian's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around in lazy circles. It was a challenge to go this slow, but Trevelyan wanted to draw it out as long as he could stand. Trevelyan began to move his mouth up and down Dorian's length, gradually taking more and more of him in his mouth. Dorian's breath caught in his throat as Trevelyan added a hand to the mix, stroking the bottom of his length in time with the gentle sucking of the top half. Dorian gripped the Inquisitor's hair tighter, thrusting up as Trevelyan took the mage in his mouth.

The Inquisitor could take it no longer and began using his other hand to stroke himself, careful to set a rhythm that would ensure he didn't finish before Dorian. He began applying more pressure both with his hand and with his lips, moving his mouth up and down faster as Dorian cried out.

"Ah, _amatus_... please..." Dorian panted, his body wound tightly with need.  Trevelyan moaned in response around his partner's cock.  He increased his tempo a fraction more, finding the rhythm he knew from experience would bring his lover to fruition.  The Inquisitor worked his hands and mouth up and down Dorian's hard and slick length eagerly, delighting in the noises of passion the mage uttered in response.  An insistent, coiling heat in his own groin meant he wouldn't be far behind Dorian.

" _Amatus!_ " Dorian cried out loudly, gripping both of Trevelyan's shoulders and digging his fingertips in to the point of pain.  With a last thrust of his hips towards the Inquisitor's waiting mouth, he came, head thrown back and groaning loudly.  Trevelyan exhaled sharply through his nose as he kept his mouth on Dorian's pulsing length, swallowing his seed, tasting the slight hints of salt and musk.  He removed his hands and mouth from the mage, only to dip back down and lick a bead of come he had missed from the tip of Dorian's member.

Dorian propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily, glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.  He eyed Trevelyan and gave a slow, impish grin.  "I want to watch you finish,  _amatus_." the mage commanded, voice husky with sex and pleasure.

That was all Trevelyan needed to hear.  He sat up, leaning back onto his knees, stroking his own cock at a rapid pace.  The sight of a sated Dorian, coupled with the knowledge he was unabashedly on display for the mage, was enough to send him over the edge.

"Dorian!" the Inquisitor's hissed, teeth clenched against the sharp, searing pleasure that overcame him,  The world went out of focus for a moment as he came, back arched and member pulsing, his seed covering his stomach and thighs.  As his orgasm subsided, his muscles relaxed and he sank a bit lower into the bed, grinning sheepishly.  Dorian reached over the edge of the bed and tossed Trevelyan a small cloth, which the Inquisitor then quickly used to wipe himself off with.

"I accept your apology," Dorian said with a grin.  Trevelyan laughed quietly and stretched out on his side beside Dorian, pressing the length of his body against the mage's and closing his eyes. 

"You are absolutely exquisite," the Inquisitor whispered, the pain of his injuries sharpening back into focus as sleep and exhaustion and satiety all threatened at once to claim him.

"Tell me something I don't already know, you smelly southerner," Dorian gibed, stroking Trevelyan's hair softly.  He looked down at the auburn-haired rogue and shook his head slightly.  It had taken no time at all for sleep to settle over the Inquisitor, his breath even and quiet.

The unguarded, beaming smile Dorian gave the sleeping Inquisitor was all the forgiveness he would need.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Pardon the rust and thanks for reading! Hopefully you had as much fun reading as I did writing this piece. I hope to delve a bit more into this pairing in the future as I'm hopelessly smitten. 
> 
> Also... do they even call it a couch in Thedas?


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